


Not A Democracy

by Dorkangel



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Aramis you slut, Cohabitation, Crack, Fluff and Crack, He doesn't know what he's getting himself into, Living Together, M/M, Rules, poor d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkangel/pseuds/Dorkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duct-taped to the kitchen wall is a piece of paper with the words 'House Rules' written at the top in Aramis's looping, neat script.<br/>Or: When Athos thought it'd be a good idea to let Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan live with him.<br/>Or: The 'House Rules' remix</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [House Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/works/841183) by [skeletonsmama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonsmama/pseuds/skeletonsmama). 



> Literally all the credit goes to skeletonsmama who originally wrote the 'House Rules' verse. Thank you so much for letting me write this!

Originally, there were twenty two of them, although others were quickly added. They were written in Aramis's neat hand and posted sturdily on the wall (with duct tape) by Porthos.

They read as follows:

_1. ~~No parties~~ Parties must be agreed by at least 80% of house residents. (SPECIFCALLY? **yes** )_

_2\. No sleeping in the nude. Not even if you_ want _to traumatise d'Art. There are easier methods._

_3\. Adhere to the chore wheel or be beaten to death with a buttoned foil._

_4. ~~Penalty for forgetting groceries is extra shopping weeks~~ FORGET THE GROCERIES & ME & ARAMIS EAT YOU HANNIBAL STYLE_

_5\. No sex on communal furniture, ~~unless it's with each other~~ **especially if it's with each other!!**_

_6\. If you're going to smoke anything, do so on the roof. (NO DRINKING ON THE ROOF EVER NOT EVEN ATHOS)_

_7\. Anyone found to playing anything Athos counts as 'Pop Trash Garbage' at excessive volume will be subject to a duel to earn back their music playing device. This is a dictatorship, people, not a democracy._

_8\. Torturing d'Artagnan is a casual hobby, not a career. He needs his qualifications, so no pranks on exam days._

_9\. Don't use the x-box without Porthos's explicit permission ~~SO ONLY ARAMIS CAN USE MY X-BOX AMIRITE~~_

_10\. No experimental cooking. This includes Flea._

**_i dont even live here tho_ **

_IRRELEVANT_

_11\. Everyone's baking licence has been removed by Constance and Porthos. If you want to bake, you will do so under their supervision or you will be forced to spend Thanksgiving with Constance's husband._

_12\. D'ARTAGNAN IS NOT PERMITTED TO COOK_

_13\. No singing or instruments between the hours of 10pm and 7am, including Porthos's drums. Break this rule and be denied caffeine for a week._

_14\. Porthos is, however, allowed to wake you up with excessive bass drumming if you sleep in past 12. Aramis is only allowd to accompany him on the cello if he has a good reason and has been given written permission by Athos - such as playing the Jaws theme to scare d'Art, right? ( **that's a good reason, yes** )_

_15\. D'Artagnan is only allowed to refer to Athos as his mentor if neither of them have consumed alcohol in the last 24 hours._

_16\. D'Artagnan is only allowed to refer to Porthos as his mentor if he is referring to activities that are at least technically legal._

_17\. D'Artagnan is only allowed to refer to Aramis as his mentor if it is not in the context of anyone's seduction._

_18\. D'Artagnan is not allowed to object to these rules. This. Is. Not. A. Democracy. Athos's family owns the building, remember?_

_19\. No one is allowed to refer to d'Artagnan as their apprentice, unless it is_ intended _to embarrass him._

_20\. NO USED CONDOMS IN THE BATHROOM PLEASE AND THANK YOU_

_21\. Doors exist to be knocked upon. Knock thou, and avoid seeing something you'd rather not. ( **do not presume that just because it is early in the morning you are safe from the sight of Porthos & Aramis**)_

_22\. For your own sake, touch no one else's weapons._

 


	2. Chapter 2

23\. **_No more stray anythings you little shits we have no more room. not even if Constance did puppy eyes on you, christ_**

 

"There is a man standing on our doorstep." announces Porthos. "And not a particularly homeless-looking one."

"More of a boy," counters Aramis. "Very young, with an innocent face."

"Looks more tired than innocent to me."

"Probably a student."

Athos has not had enough coffee for this shit.

"Then why," he sighs, with the expression of a martyr. "Has no one let him in?"

The other two men stare at him from Aramis has draped himself over Porthos's lap at the kitchen table. Both of them seem perplexed, and he briefly considers the pros and cons of smashing his head against the table.

Aramis answers, then buries his face in Porthos's neck so as to avoid explaining further.

"Because you're the adult here, Athos."

Athos curses every god he can think of, and marches over to the door, which he tugs open as though it personally insulted his mother. Poor thing that he is, the rain-drenched boy on the doorstep physically jumps back.

"You have three seconds to explain who you are and what you want," drawls Athos, staring into the distance with the greatest amount of apathy he can muster. "And then I bring out my fencing equipment. Three, two-"

"D'Artagnan!" the boy splutters. All in all, he's actually remarkably composed in the face of adversity. "My name is d'Artagnan, I'm Constance's friend."

Five seconds pass in silence before Athos decides to speak again.

"And?"

"...And I got kicked out of my dorm? And she said I could maybe stay here? I can pay rent, I promise."

_Fuck you, Constance._

"Why did you get kicked out of the dorm?"

D'Artagnan brightens up, then looks awkwardly guilty. "I, uh. Broke a window."

Immediately, Athos is suspicious.

"Doesn't sound that serious."

"I broke it with my body." d'Artagnan continues hesitantly. "By, um, jumping out."

He's about to shut the door in the kid's face, when suddenly a spectre of his mother appears in his mind, hissing that such a stupid child belongs nowhere in the world of a De La Fere. Athos is nothing if not a contrary bastard, and his mother's been dead for nearly nine years but he wastes no opportunity to piss off her memory.

"You'll fit right in." He forces a gruff smile for approximately two seconds as a sign of welcome, then lets d'Artagnan go past him with the two suitcases he has apparently been lugging everywhere for a couple of days.

 

"Ground rules," he calls backwards as they pass a belligerently making-out Porthos and Aramis. "Number one: this is a dictatorship, not a democracy. I inherited the building, so my word is the word of God unless actual Jesus or the president turns up."

D'Artagnan seems a little alarmed for a moment, but all credit to him, he nods. "Got it."

"Number two: just because the other two housemates have hooked up, doesn't mean I plan to do so with you."

For that, he gets an awkward grimace. "I'm, uh, not into guys." says d'Artagnan, in the kind of uncertain tone that makes Athos raise an eyebrow.

"If you say so."

When the kid begins an objection, he cuts it off with the lazy wave of one hand.

"Look, I quite literally couldn't care less. Third rule is that if you value your possessions, don't gamble with Porthos. If you value your _life_ , don't break these rules. Okay?"

"Okay, yeah."

"Pay rent on time or get out, don't put a lock on your door - which is that one there, by the way -, don't try and speak to me before nine am, spare key is underneath the decaying sock next to the front door, and if you do feel the need to jump out of a window again, you're going to pay to have it fixed."

D'Artagnan looks so relieved that Athos worries suddenly that he's about to get hugged, and steps out of range.

"I will! I mean, I won't. I'll try not to-"

"Stop talking." Athos advises him, pats him on the back so hard he goes stumbling into his room, and strides over to the phone to have a very serious conversation with Constance about handing their address out to lost little waifs.

 

*

 

D'Artagnan learns his lesson about all these rules very quickly. Within the first week, Porthos has swindled fifty dollars from him, Athos has thrown a toaster at his head that, thankfully, did not hit its target (the boy has fast reflexes, which is very good), Aramis has kissed him twice, and he's accidentally smashed a priceless vase that belonged to Athos's ex-wife. So, he's by far the most competent housemate they've ever had.

(And the easiest to mess with, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all hail skeletonsmama, as usual


	3. Chapter 3

2\. _No sleeping in the nude._

 

In fairness to him, it's only his third week. He has some idea of Athos's paranoia, but hasn't quite grasped its actual extent yet, which is a problem because it turns out that the breadbox in the kitchen is, in actual fact, a disguised (and unlocked) gun safe.

"Fucking hell!"

And if this is what you get for looking for a poptart in this house, he wants no part of it. Sure, the rent's cheap and he'd probably get kicked out by anyone not being blackmailed by Constance, but d'Artagnan isn't really certain if he likes his chances of surviving his first month so far.

Mentally, he goes over the rules that Athos outlined. _Don't barge in on your housemates at ungodly hours_ wasn't one, was it? Athos would very probably decapitate anyone who walked in on him in bed, but Porthos and Aramis seem relatively harmless so far - _tactile_ , but harmless - and besides, if Athos did take his poptarts then there won't be any protesting it. Dictatorship.

Porthos and Aramis are fair game for yelling at about baked goods, though. Both of them have physically fought d'Artagnan in the last weeks, and both of them have totally fucking thrashed him, but whatever. It's two in the morning, they're not going to be expecting him or anything.

 

Neither is he expecting to open the door to Aramis's room and find both of them sprawled on the impressively large bed.

On top of the covers.

Butt naked.

 

"Holy flying bollocks!"

"Huh?"

"Wha- oh, it's the kid. Whasisname."

"Put some fucking clothes on, Christ!"

"D'Artagnan. If you don't want to see, don't look."

 

Any normal person, any person in full possession of their sanity, would probably come to see what all the fuss was about at this point. Athos is clearly _not_ in possession of his sanity, but even he might be expected to just sleep through it and be clueless the next morning.

Athos sleeps through it, wakes up the next day, calmly walks downstairs, stares down the silently guilty and/or traumatised three of them, and then eventually says:

"You're all fuckers and we're making a new rule about pyjamas."

And none of them even pretend they have the grounds to protest it.


	4. Chapter 4

_27\. DO NOT TOUCH THE GODDAMN GUN CABINET_

 

It's not like he just moved in anymore, for Christ's sake. D'Art has been ~~bullied by~~ living with them in Jacques (That's the house's name, Jacques. Also what they order pizza under.) for months at this point, and should know what kind of shit to expect by now.

All credit to him, he is coping pretty well. Charon asleep on the kitchen table? Just make coffee _quietly._ Ninon ranting at thin air about social justice? Nod along whenever she looks at you. Porthos needs to borrow an umbrella and a left shoe? Don't question it.

Athos stalking around the house with a hunting rifle and the look in his eyes of a man possessed? ...Freeze up, unsure, and watch him like a deer in headlights.

Alright. The last one is where he falls down a bit. But Athos's glare of death has been known to make small mammals drop down dead, and what is d'Artagnan other than a small mammal, really?

Aramis has been living here longer than him, although admittedly not as long as Porthos - Porthos and Athos go back a long way; a long, _violent_ way, that d'Artagnan hasn't really gone very deep into yet, but understands that it involves bruised knuckles and defenestrated playground bullies hitting the ground ass first - and is therefore slightly more jaded to all the weird things that happen here.

"What's happening?" he asks calmly, thankfully wearing a dressing gown. Since Athos implemented the new rule on sleeping naked, Aramis has taken to wearing thongs around the house. It's actually _worse._

"Athos is wearing his murder face." d'Artagnan hums nervously.

Aramis, having clearly been driven insane by long exposure to this house, just laughs.

"Oh, yeah. Apparently something or someone tripped the sensors on his gun cabinet and now he's convinced there's a threat hiding in his home."

D'Artagnan pales. Understandably so, because yesterday he managed to blindly wander straight into Athos's room - _that's Athos's room_ , Porthos had explained dismissively on the first day, _no human beings allowed_ \- and slam straight into a large metal safe because stumbling out again. He was maybe quite slightly drunk.

Aramis sips calmly at the tea in his hand and in the background, Athos shrieks animalistically and leaps, bayonet first, at a unfortunate and bystanding squirrel.

Oops.


	5. Chapter 5

_25\. Milady is banned from ever entering the house._

 

The first time that he ever encounters Milady, d'Artagnan is grabbed by a big set of hands he recognises as Porthos and hauled into the storage cupboard where, he has discovered, Aramis keeps all his theology stuff.

(Well, no. That's a lie. The first time he ever encounters Milady, d'Artagnan's friend leans over to him in a noisy and overcrowded nightclub and him that the ridiculously hot woman across the bar is eyeing him. But the next day he woke up with no money and no memories past that point, so for the sake of his dignity he ignores this.)

It's all pretty sudden. Porthos catches hold of him right as he's crossing the threshold and yanks him into the closet, and d'Artagnan really does try and struggle but is confronted by Aramis and Aramis's current expression of utter despair. There's no fighting _that_ look on _that_ face, it'd be like punching a puppy.

Even if he does manage to get in a good kick to Porthos's kneecap as he's released.

"We need your help," Aramis says first, one of his anxious hands coming up to tangle in his hair and the other one clutching the crucifix around his neck. "Athos's ex-wife-"

"And our ex-housemate." Porthos cuts in.

"Yes, yes, the housemate who was forcibly removed after physically injuring Athos and setting the curtains on fire, the batshit-crazy housemate, is currently sitting in the living room and very probably snogging Athos senseless on the couch."

"We sit on that couch!" Porthos protests, looking somewhere between horrified and distraught.

"And you have to make the plan because you're a law major, which means you're logical."

D'Artagnan sighs, and then notices the planet-sized hole in that train of thought. "Wait, isn't Athos an actual qualified laywer?"

Porthos and Aramis sent twin looks of exasperation his way. "Yeah, which is why he usually makes the plans."

"I can't, 'cause it might involve math."

"And I can't, because... I'm a theology major."

D'Artagnan once watched Aramis argue a cashier into giving him a free sandwich, and Porthos is the most well-read wrestler he's ever met, but he does see their point.

"Right. Okay. Question two: I thought you said _ex_ -wife?"

"Ex-wife, current fuckbuddy-slash-mortal-enemy. Apparently Athos really likes angry sex."

D'Artagnan pauses for a moment as his mind leaves his body to scream on a separate plane of existence at that mental image. Not that he's interested in it, or anything. D'Artagnan's straight. Very.

(It's an image he'll think about later.)

"So, your ex-housemate is in the living room, and you want me to... remove her?"

"Christ, yes!" D'Artagnan is pretty sure that people as wrapped up in religion as Aramis shouldn't blaspheme - or be sleeping with another dude, or happily support said dude inflicting serious injuries on people on a regular basis - but Aramis, apparently, reckons he has the _only_ right to blaspheme.

"Can't just to tell her to leave," grumbles Porthos. "'Cause then Athos'll get all pissy and probably glare our faces off. We got to do something really dramatic, leave 'em too confused or dumbfounded to react. An' as long as it gets Milady out of the house, I don't give a fuck what you come up with."

"Wait, wait, Milady? As in, Anna 'I-dress-to-kill-and-also-to-literally-murder-people' Clarick-Winter? That Milady?"

"Yeah, that's the one. You know her?"

"I may have met her. Once. Under, um, circumstances." A horrific thought occurs to him. "Athos used to be married to _her?_ "

Aramis and Porthos exchange a significant look.

"Just say it," Porthos tells him, grim-faced. "Just rip it off like a bandaid."

Aramis takes a deep breath. "Well, okay. You know what Milady's like, right? Yeah. Well, Athos used to have this younger brother, Thomas, but he died when they were kids. And then a couple of years ago, we found out that she was using Thomas's identity to steal money from him."

"Which Athos didn't notice 'cause he don't talk to his family. Ever."

"I mean, 'Athos' isn't even really his name-"

Porthos elbows Aramis to be quiet, and then coughs, sounding suspiciously like 'Rene'.

"Shut _up_. Anyway, Athos didn't tell the police because he still kind of loves her in a weird, messed up way, but she totally just fucks with his head every time and-"

"And it'd be really nice if you could get rid of her before she has the chance to do that."

"And also before the couch is defiled, if possible."

"Alright." he nods. "What have we got?"

Aramis winces.

"Six bibles, two Qu'rans, a Philosophy textbook, a rosary, and a broom."

Okay. Okay, D'Artagnan can work with that; it's within his abilities to bullshit his way through this. Bullshitting is a speciality of his.

"Right. This is what we're going to do..."

 

*

 

D'Artagnan, Porthos says, is a planmaker, not a plandoer. In the future he could be a plandoer, but he has to put on some muscle mass first. In answer to this, d'Artagnan counters that planmakers are allowed to film plandoers on their phones. Aramis cuts in at this point and says that plan-whatevers can do whatever they want, so long as they just shut up and do it.

So, d'Artagnan raises his phone and prays that Athos won't actually cut their throats in their sleep for this, Aramis jumps onto Porthos back, clutching the broom, they both yell a war cry that he's pretty sure they stole from _Braveheart,_ and Porthos charges forwards and into the living room.

"Get out, get out, get out!"

"What the _fuck_ -"

Aramis, still yelling, punctuates it by whacking Milady with the broom. She's so confused that she falls off Athos (who's topless but still mostly clothed, thank god, with Milady totally clothed), and d'Artagnan helpfully joins in the shouting.

_"Don't come back either you motherfucker!"_


	6. Chapter 6

_31\. You have to come to Athos's fencing lessons at least once it's actually hilarious just go with it_

 

 

It has been three days since the Milady Incident. Athos has not stopped glaring, and has taken to slinking about the house like a moody cat - but they're all pretty sure Milady isn't coming back, so the ends seem to justify the means.

According to Constance (who came over yesterday, laughed for a solid ten minutes, and then proceeded to eat all their leftover pizza), Athos has, in the past, been known to sulk for up to three or four weeks at a time. Which doesn't explain why he's wearing a disturbing, wrong-end-of-crazy grin right now.

D'Artagnan is not a slow learner, which is the reason he's afraid to ask Aramis or Porthos why. Their answers tend to be convoluted at best, and usually more likely to raise further questions than offer solutions. Case in point, the answer he gets when he just finally gives up and asks them anyway:

"Athos, cheerful?"

"Never!"

"Unless it's Thursday."

"Oh, yeah. Is it Thursday?"

At his affirmative, they sigh in understanding.

"Fencing lessons."

"Fifty percent a relic from Athos's unbelievably upper class childhood..."

"Fifty percent stress relief via violence."

Not wanting to repeat the episode with the gun cabinet, d'Artagnan hasn't actually seen Athos fence. Apparently the guy's a master, though: surely he doesn't need lessons?

When he voices this, he gets that same edge-of-sanity grin from both of them, the one that makes him want to run away and live somewhere safer. The rim of an active volcano, for example.

"He _gives_ the lessons."

"Only the best students're allowed to try and take 'im. Obviously."

"Because you know Athos. Sometimes he goes a little..."

"Off the rails."

 

The actual thing is not as bad as d'Artagnan was bracing himself for. When he arrives, Porthos has his best respectable face on and is talking to a stern-looking older guy in the corner, while Aramis waves him over to a table in the corner and introduces him to a petite blonde called Anne. She smiles, somewhat shyly, but then completely shamelessly continues her quiet conversation with him that seems to be a mix of current affairs, fashion, and all the details of their personal (sex) lives mixed into one.

Athos is nowhere to be seen. It's worrying, until he appears from a side door in full protective gear. Next to him is a pasty-faced, dark-haired young man who glares at Aramis and wanders up to Anne to give her a polite kiss on the cheek.

"Joining in?" he mutters, as though he's not comfortable here at all.

Anne smiles calmly.

"No, no, you go ahead. I might have some calls to make, anyway."

The man grits his teeth and nods, then goes off to join Athos. At d'Artagnan's raised eyebrow, Aramis and Anne both smirk.

"Me and Louis are getting a divorce." she says, sweet as anything. "He's been a brat forever, but our parents insisted that we married."

"It's a rich people thing." explains Aramis casually, and Anne laughs.

"Yeah, probably. But it's okay, because I put up with him for three years and now I get to walk off with half his stuff."

"And you're here... because?" asks d'Artagnan, impressed and a little scared.

"Because she likes to watch Louis get his ass handed to him."

Unsurprisingly, that's exactly what happens. The guy in charge, Treville, steps away from his conversation with Porthos and into the middle of the room to hiss, "Just try and remember what I told you. _Both_ of you." to Louis and Athos just loud enough for everyone to hear and wonder about before he makes a slight gesture and Athos _moves._

D'Artagnan doesn't know shit about fencing, but now he kind of wishes he does, because Louis is lying flat on his back with the tip of a foil pressing over his heart. Next to him, Anne giggles into her hand.

"Again." calls Treville, his voice superficially grim but tinged with audible amusement.

*

This goes on for three hours. During this time, Anne and Aramis end up making out noisily and messily, with Porthos and Louis both in eyeshot. Porthos is chilled about it.

Louis, no matter how divorced he is about to be, is not.


	7. Chapter 7

_35\. Illicit activities involving tenants may no longer involve any of the following:_

_-abandoned buildings_

_-pornography ~~although in my defence I had no idea a nun would be coming over~~_

_-skittles **(In fact, blanket ban on skittles. In the entire house. Ever.)** BUT ATHOS HOW WILL U TASTE THE RAINBOW THEN_

_-A/V and/or lighting equipment (!!!)_

 

 

"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with spending the night in an abandoned building."

Porthos laughs at him, a deep rumble that never fails to make d'Artagnan feel insecure about his masculinity.

"Listen," insists Porthos's friend, a man with quick, restless eyes and very possibly also kleptomania. Charon. "If there's one thing that my twenty eight years on this earth have taught me, it's that just because it _sounds_ like the plot of a horror movie, doesn't means it's going to turn out like a horror movie. Yeah?"

Porthos's other friend, blonde and wearing dreadlocks and apparently stoned, nods with wide-eyed sincerity.

D'Artagnan still isn't anywhere near convinced. It's the way that Aramis has gone quiet that's the most ominous, really.

"...how legal is this?"

The high girl, who has the improbably name of Flea, sighs heavily at him. "It's not about the legality, man! It's about whether you have fun doing it and don't hurt anyone!"

"Doesn't matter," shrugs Porthos. "We're not gonna get caught."

"And they've let us off with warnings before."

In the face of adversity, d'Artagnan caves- and for a moment, he thinks that he glimpses something of a smile breaking out behind what he privately refers to as Athos's wild mountain-man goatee. That can't be right, though.

*

The plan is to do the classic teenagers-in-a-slasher-movie thing and sleep over in an empty warehouse that Charon and Flea, being Porthos's semi-homeless, semi-bonkers childhood best buddies, have found. Apparently it was being used by a drug dealer until it was raided a few years ago and he was shot by police, so obviously it couldn't get more haunted.

Predictably, it starts raining before they even get there. They are, in fact, still three blocks away. No one else is around - but that's because everyone else is in possession of their sanity.

"My _hair_." moans Aramis, and is generally ignored. This is mainly because someone asks Athos how exactly d'Artagnan came to be living with them, he tries to stop Athos from answering, and from there the whole conversation descends into a whispered argument containing phrases like 'private, confidential information', 'fucking hilarious information', and 'let me out of the goddamn headlock man not cool'.

Then they reach the warehouse.

As it turns out, only two of them have ever actually scaled a fence before, let alone one with violent-looking spikes across the top. (Porthos and Charon, which surprises no one.)

"I don't think you guys thought this through. Like, at all." grumbles d'Artagnan through chattering teeth. The rain hasn't stopped.

"If we walk around the back there should be better access." suggests Flea. "It's just that maybe we came to the wrong place."

"You said you knew what you were doing!"

"You went along with it!"

"Yeah, and I also thought you'd be able to get us to the right side of the _pitch black haunted building_ _!_ "

He would really like this not to be true, but d'Artagnan's pretty sure he can hear Aramis humming Ave Maria somewhere to his left.

Eventually, though, they do find a temporary wire fence that everyone can get over without a problem. The warehouse looms ominously huge in front of them; the way that Charon holds a torch under his chin and grins doesn't help.

"Don't get lost," he says. "Don't get hypothermia, don't get separated, and above all, if the cops come, run like hell and meet back at Athos's house."

"Jacques."

"What?"

"The house's name is Jacques."

"Oh, okay. Meet back at Jacques. Has everyone got a torch?"

Everyone has, at the very least, a phone with a flashlight app - except d'Artagnan, whose spectacular luck is making another appearance. He thought he was charging it before they left, but apparently it wasn't plugged in. Great.

"Just stick with the group." grunts Athos.

The only problem is that with five beams of light spinning off in opposite directions and everyone in hushed silence, it's kind of inevitable that they managed to get separated.

"Athos," he squeaks, after fifteen or twenty minutes. "Can you see anyone else?"

A brief sweep of the troch over wrecked nothingness and a muffled ' _shit_ ' is all the answer he needs.

"Wonderful."

There's a few moments of worried quiet as they try to retrace their steps, and then the older man speaks again.

"Would, um. Would now be a good time to mention that I am irrationally afraid of ghosts."

"It would explain why you refused to watch _Paranormal Activity_ with us." nods d'Artagnan, going for cheerful and falling flat. The supernatural usually doesn't get to him, but in the darkness, with a usually stoic guy who is clearly scared shitless...

Athos grabs his hand, and he would swear he didn't jump.

"Don't say anything to anyone." mutters Athos, embarrassed. "Please."

"Sure thing." says d'Artagnan, and then awkwardly, "It's okay, you know."

"Shut up." 

*

"Hey, Porthos?"

"Mm?"

"Can you see Athos and d'Art back there?"

"They were right... here." he turns around, only to find that space occupied by... well, space.  "Or not."

Aramis stops walking and Flea walks into him, too distracted by the back of his neck to pay much attention to her surroundings. And then they hear a sound, from not too far away, that sounds suspiciously like their two missing friends singing a sheepish but surprisingly good rendition of the _Game of Thrones_ theme song.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Eagle One?" Porthos chuckles.

"Pretty fucking sure I am, Eagle Two."

"Flea, want to help us scare them? Aramis, I know you're morally opposed to this sort of thing, so will you watch our stuff?"

*

Athos has gone from holding d'Artagnan's hand to attaching himself to the entire limb, uncomfortably tight.

So when he stops, he takes d'Artagnan with him.

"Oof! What-"

"I heard a noise."

"It was probably just a cat or something - ah, dude, you are cutting off my circulation." When Athos doesn't relax, d'Artagnan sighs. "Hey, come on. Uf we get back to the fence we can walk home. Where it's warm. And light."

Their footsteps are the only noise, echoing off the hollow floor and empty walls (apart from d'Artagnan, who restarts the humming).

And then Athos freezes _again_.

"No, that was definitely something alive. It was coming from behind there."

He starts walking slowly backwards, and d'Artagnan wonders how much it costs to have an arm amputated.

"Look, I'm sure it was just-"

They collide with a solid, surprisingly warm object. D'Artagnan jumps, startled. Athos howls bloody murder.

 

**_"FUCKING GOD I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE HELP SHIT SHIT HELP"_ **

 

Flashlights land on them among the hysterical and distinctive laughter of Porthos and his two _shithead_ friends, which is only just audible over Athos reverting back to his usual irascible cursing.

"You should have see your faces."

"I will tear your fucking head off and stuff it up your arse, you total and utter-"

"I wish I had a camera, god!"

"We're going home." Athos barks, bright red. "And I'm making a new rule."

"What's it with you and rules?"

"I swear, Athos, you're OCD or something-"

"You're worse than Constance's husband."

"We're _leaving_."

*

In the end, though, no one gives him shit for it. D'Artagnan's pretty sure that they're all glad to get out of there, and Porthos laughs and calls d'Artagnan his apprentice in crime - and gets a bottle thrown at him by Athos, yelling ' _Rules sixteen and nineteen'_ and they all have hot chocolate with various amounts of alcohol in it, and he thinks, _this isn't that bad._

(Even if Athos is the angry high lord fascist of housemates sometimes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charon = Eagle One  
> Aramis = Been There, Done That  
> Flea = Currently Doing That  
> D'Artagnan = If I Had To Pick A Stranger  
> Athos = It Happened Once In A Nightmare  
> Porthos = Eagle Two  
> (Constance = I'd Be Lying If I Said I Hadn't Thought About It)


End file.
